


living for your every move

by tozierbraks



Series: anytime you're ready [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, and was thinkin abt these boys, i just love this universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tozierbraks/pseuds/tozierbraks
Summary: Mike’s grip loosened, he started to move his hands away. But Stan grabbed them and put them back, digging Mike’s thumbs into the hollows of his own hips. Mike’s eyes were searching his face, making him feel shy, a blush rose to his cheeks as he averted his gaze.“Stan, we don’t ha-”“I want to!” he blurted, finally meeting Mike’s eyes. A long exhale, and then he began again, trying to steady his voice. “Please, Mike. I want to.”--technically just a little companion piece to my stanlon fic "anytime you're ready" but could also be read on its own!





	living for your every move

**Author's Note:**

> me: oh i should write like a 1k drabble about stanlon  
> me, later: ........or this
> 
> this is pretty much unedited, totally unbeta'd, take it for what it is lmao

“Tell me again.”  
  
“Fine. Acceleration is the change in velocity over time.”  
  
“Force?”  
  
“Mike,” Stan whined, “I know this, it’s easy.”  
  
“Force?” Mike repeated.  
  
“Mass times acceleration,” Stanley recited, reaching his arms to wrap around Mike’s shoulders. They sat across from each other on Stan’s dorm bed, legs criss-crossed with a pile of flash cards balancing carefully on Mike’s knee. The windows were shut tight against the December chill seeping in through the cracks in the old building. “Now will you kiss me instead?”  
  
“Only if you can tell me how to find momentum.”  
  
Stan huffed and dropped his arms to his sides. His hands were swallowed up by the sleeves of Mike’s navy blue football hoodie.

“Why are you torturing me?”  
  
“Because,” Mike replied, “if you don’t feel good about this test you’ll be worried about it all weekend, and I don’t want that. I have other plans for your weekend.”  
  
“Is that so?” Stan smiled and pushed the sleeves of the sweater up to his elbows. He sat up on his knees to put his arms around Mike’s neck again, admiring the way the soft string lights lit up Mike’s features. Mike’s hands found his waist.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, tugging Stan closer and nosing at his neck, ghosting his lips over the soft skin there. He slid his arms properly around Stan’s back, about to give in when-  
  
“Mass times velocity.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Momentum,” Stan clarified. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back. “It’s mass times velocity.” Mike smiled against his throat before pressing a kiss there.  
  
“What about pressure?”  
  
“Will I get another kiss for it?”  
  
“Sure, sunshine,” he murmured into Stan’s shoulder.

“Force over area,” Stan answered easily. He shifted forward so his knees straddled Mike’s thighs, placing himself lightly in his lap. Mike’s small groan was muffled when he pressed his lips to Stan’s collarbone peeking out from under the too-big hoodie. Stan shuddered, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Only three weeks into their relationship this was still lightly explored territory.  
  
“Work?”  
  
“Force times distance.” Stan grabbed Mike’s face in his hands and claimed his kiss, sighing against Mike’s mouth. This part was already familiar. Mike had fulfilled his promise of taking Stan around the farm over Thanksgiving break; Turns out there are plenty of quiet, hidden places around a farm perfect for sneaking kisses. The weekend had thrown Stan right into the deep end, leaving no room for him to be timid about kissing or being kissed.  
  
However, when hands started to wander he would tense, filled with a frustrating swirl of want and anxiety. Mike, ever perceptive, backed off every time. Stan would spend the next half hour kicking himself, trying to override his own head as Mike’s kisses grew softer. Once, an unbidden whisper had slipped past his lips.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
Mike only smiled and shook his head, pulling Stan into his chest.  
  
“No rush.”  
  
Except that Stan was kind of in a rush. The heat in his gut burned hotter every time he had Mike pressed against him. Now, perched in Mike’s lap while his hands explored Stan’s back, it lit up again, igniting his insides. When Mike tried to pull away from the kiss, probably to ask another flashcard question, Stan chased him. He pulled Mike’s bottom lip between his own and leaned in, sliding his hands down to Mike’s chest and pushing him gently so his back thudded against the wall. Mike’s arms tightened around him and he grinned against Stan’s lips, clearly trying to fight it to continue kissing him. Stan sat back, his hands still pressing against Mike’s chest.  
  
“What’s funny?”  
  
“Nothing’s funny,” Mike answered, still smiling. He brought his hands up to hold Stan’s wrists, tugging so Stan fell against him, their chests resting together. It left Stan’s head in the crook of Mike’s neck. He took a deep breath, relishing the sweet spice of his aftershave. He let his weight melt into Mike and began to kiss the warm skin of his throat, lazy and slow. His lips dragged open and he tested flicking his tongue, earning a low, encouraging groan. The sound stoked the fire spreading through Stan and his hips jerked forward. Mike caught them in his broad hands, holding him flush to his stomach. The thick fabric of the large hoodie Stan still wore was suddenly an unwelcome obstacle, he shimmied the sides of the sweater up so Mike’s hands were on his skin, sending a shiver up his spine. Suddenly a little overwhelmed, he sat back to take a deep breath.

Mike’s grip loosened, he started to move his hands away. But Stan grabbed them and put them back, digging Mike’s thumbs into the hollows of his own hips. Mike’s eyes were searching his face, making him feel shy, a blush rose to his cheeks as he averted his gaze.  
  
“Stan, we don’t ha-”  
  
“I want to!” he blurted, finally meeting Mike’s eyes. A long exhale, and then he began again, trying to steady his voice. “Please, Mike. I want to.”  
  
“Okay,” Mike nodded, “can we just talk first? I can’t, if you’re uncomfortable.” Stan chewed his lip, choosing his words.  
  
“It’s just new,” he said finally. “It’s a lot to make sense of.”  
  
“What needs making sense?”  
  
He thought for a long moment.   
  
“Nothing, I guess. I’m just in my head about it. Surprise surprise,” Stan finished, huffing a laugh and tucking his chin into his chest, hiding again. Mike held his cheek and brought him back, his deep brown eyes capturing Stan’s. He waited, allowing a patient silence.  
  
“It’s just nerves,” Stan continued. “But not because of you, it would be like this no matter what, I think.” He raised his hand to lace their fingers together. “And I want it to be you so bad, like,” he rolled his hips once, “ _so_ bad.” He dropped his forehead to Mike’s shoulder.  
  
“Tough sell, baby,” Mike laughed sarcastically, his voice tight. He ran a hand down Stan’s back, fanning his fingers and rubbing his thumb in a soothing circle. “You’ll tell me, right? If you want to stop?” Stan nodded into his shoulder.  
  
“Yeah, promise.”  
  
“Okay,” Mike pressed a kiss into Stan’s hair. “Come here and let me kiss you.” As Stan straightened up the pounding in his chest turned into an excited flutter when he admired the way the fairy lights reflected in Mike’s warm eyes. Leaning in, he met Mike in the middle. The kiss started slow, the sensation in Stan’s lips building with the delicious friction. He wiggled a little in Mike’s lap, trying to get his jeans to stop stretching and bunching in all the wrong places. Suddenly Mike’s hands were back on his hips, holding him still until he pulled Stan firmly forward and down, finally grinding them together properly.

A small gasp, and Stan was repeating the motion, slow and smooth, addicted to the barely there brush through two layers of heavy denim. He could feel Mike hardening beneath him with nearly every grind, it left his head cloudy. When Mike’s thumb slipped under his waistband an itch started at the bottom of his spine; He tried to will it away, screwing his eyes shut, assuming it was the anxiety. But when Mike started to drag the edge of his jeans down the feeling spread through his body, desperate and hot, and only a little terrifying.

Pulling himself out of his own head, Stan planted his palms back on Mike’s chest and dragged them down as they kissed, now open-mouthed and punctuated by small sighs. He found the hemline of Mike’s t-shirt and snuck underneath, pleased with himself at the way he shuddered in response to Stan’s roaming fingers. Emboldened, he fumbled his hands down towards the button of Mike’s jeans, trying hard to get it undone while maintaining their messy kiss. But it wasn’t really working, his own body was too close, a weird fold in Mike’s jeans was in his way, he couldn’t _see_. He sat back and huffed, glaring down at Mike’s crotch.  
  
Mike laughed, and then laughed harder when Stan shot him a scandalized glare. He wrapped his arms around Stan’s ribs, twisted, and sat up on his knees, dropping Stan on his back across the bed. Wasting no time, Mike undid his own pants and shoved them down, standing for just a second to pull them off his ankles. When he resettled himself, kneeling again between Stan’s thighs, he pushed the hoodie Stan wore up past his hips and rested his fingers on the button of his jeans.  
  
“Can I?”

Stan nodded, rushed and hasty, and lifted his hips so Mike could tug them off. He pulled lightly on Mike’s t-shirt, twisting it up and hoping he would get the hint. As Mike crossed his arms to yank it over his head Stan felt his breath leave his body. He was actually here, actually underneath a nearly naked Mike Hanlon, who was actually about to touch him. He felt his heart pound in his chest, somewhere between uncomfortable and exhilarating.

Giving in to a nervous tick, he pulled the sides of the sweatshirt down, it reached his mid-thigh. With his back pressed to the bed he could feel where _HANLON_ was embroidered in thick white letters across it against his shoulders. He played with the edge of the sweater between his fingers and took a deep breath, almost ready to pull it off, but when he looked up to check in on Mike he found his eyes burning into the place where the deep blue contrasted with the pale skin of Stan’s thigh.  
  
“Should I…?” he began, pulling up just a few inches. Mike’s stare followed the slight motion. He shook his head.  
  
“Leave it,” his voice was gruff. “Just,” he grabbed the hem and pushed it up past Stan’s waist so it rested, crooked, on his chest. “Right there.” He bent down to trail a line of kisses just under the hemline, bringing a bright flush to Stan’s cheeks. When Mike finally looked back to Stan’s face his eyes were dark and he rushed to capture Stan’s lips again, a thick groan escaping his throat.  
  
The warm weight of Mike’s chest pressing into his own electrified Stan, he arched up into the feeling, his arms wrapping around Mike’s back to hold him close. It was these little things no one had warned him about that really got to him. He had heard a million times how great it was to have your dick in someone’s mouth, but no one told him how mind-blowing it would be just to feel Mike’s hot breath against his neck, to feel Mike’s strong legs between the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He clenched them together now, pulling Mike’s hips down towards his own, dying to find the same friction they had been building before.

“Fuck,” Mike hissed as his cock brushed Stan’s, only separated by the thin cotton of their underwear. “You good, baby?” He used his thumb to move a loose curl off of Stan’s forehead.  
  
“Very” Stan replied, his eyes shut tight as he tried to regain some control over his own body. He lost the fight when Mike rolled his hips down with purpose and he jerked almost violently upward, letting out a noise even he would have to call a whimper.

“Jesus, Stan,” Mike rumbled into his shoulder, bringing his hand to pin Stan’s hip down. Stan’s first instinct was to hate how hot he thought that was, until he realized he didn’t have to hate it. Instead he released some of the tension that had been sneaking into his shoulders and focused all of himself on the thick weight of Mike’s cock against his own. They built a steady rhythm, not at all graceful but intensely satisfying. The room filled with their heavy breathing, Stan nearly panting while Mike’s quiet moans were swallowed by the side of Stan’s neck. He pushed himself up on his elbows, resting their foreheads together.  
  
“I swear this isn’t just a line, but I’ve been dying for this for _so_ long.”  
  
“Thought you said no rush,” Stan teased, finally opening his eyes.  
  
“And I meant it,” Mike laughed against Stan’s lips. “Doesn’t mean I’m not grateful we got here.” Stan hummed his agreement and kissed him, surprisingly chaste.  
  
“Can we…” he began, tugging at the waistband of his own briefs, flickering his eyes up to meet Mike’s.  
  
“Spoke too soon, Uris,” Mike groaned, “you’re still gonna kill me.” But he obliged, lifting up onto his hands and pulling his boxers down and off. Distracted, Stan’s fingers lingered by his own hip as he stared, only a little ashamed. Mike cleared his throat, pulling Stan from his haze, making him jump.  
  
“Sorry,” a warm blush rose in his cheeks, he turned his head to hide in his pale blue sheets.  
  
“Don’t be, just hoping you’ll even up the score.”  
  
“Oh, right.” Stan shimmied out of his briefs, his blush deepening when Mike returned his indulgent stare. Slowly, he dipped his hips to press them tightly together, swallowing Stan’s choked moan with a kiss and parting his lips with his tongue. Lost in the simple feeling of the unhurried kiss, affection bloomed in Stan’s chest, his head finally catching up to his body. His shoulders still wrapped in Mike’s hoodie, and he savored the warm safety of this moment, pushing past the part of him that said it was impossible to be this lucky. Instead, his mind wandered over the events of the past few months, reminding himself that it was all _real_. He wrapped his arms tight around Mike’s neck and sank into how deliriously happy he felt there with him. The motion shifted his hips just enough to find friction against Mike’s taut stomach, and he nipped at Mike’s lower lip as his body shivered.

Mike reached his hand between them to find a grip on Stan’s cock, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly. Stan’s breathy whine slipped past where his teeth had a firm grip on his lower lip, his eyes shut tight again. Mike pecked kisses onto both of his cheekbones as he began to move his hand while grinding himself down against Stan’s hip. Too soon, he felt Mike shift up onto his knees, removing both his hand the weight of his body all at once. Stan opened his eyes and blinked dumbly up at him, dazed.

“Hang on.” Mike stood and crossed the dorm to Richie’s side, quickly opening and closing the drawers on his desk. He shook his head as he pushed the last one shut, turning to eye the rest of the room. Stan propped himself up on his elbows, about to ask why Mike was anywhere except back on top of him, but Mike had an idea first. He pulled Richie’s bed a little away from the wall and stuck his hand between the mattress and the wooden bed frame, sliding up until he found what he was looking for.  
  
“Ha,” he announced, turning back with a bottle of lube in his hand. As badly as Stan wanted to be disgusted, he couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
“How did you know?”  
  
“Neither of them are very patient, figured easy access was a good bet.” He crossed back to Stan’s bed, kneeling back between his thighs and rubbing his thumb on his knee. The initial surprise gone, Stan started to feel nervous about the implications of the small bottle. His legs pressed shut as he found his voice.  
  
“I don’t know if...I’m just not really pre-” he stuttered.  
  
“Don’t worry babe,” Mike soothed, maintaining the steady pressure of his hand on Stan’s knee. “We’re not flying that fast.” He uncapped the lube and drizzled it onto his palm before reaching around Stan’s clenched legs to start stroking his cock again, his other hand sliding down to hold his thigh. Stan let out a heavy exhale. He fought the urge to close his eyes again, gazing up at Mike with pleading eyes instead. For at least the hundredth time since he and Mike had finally kissed he felt grateful that he had taken the chance.  
  
Mike’s grip on his thigh tightened as Stan’s hips twitched up to meet the tight heat of his hand. He spread his fingers over Stan’s skin, slipping them up and in between where his thighs met. Keeping his rhythm on Stan steady he flicked the cap off the lube again and poured it into his hand, this time slicking it over himself.  
  
“Keep your legs shut like that, baby,” he prompted as he shifted just to the right of Stan’s calves, pushing them up so he could line up his cock with the swell of Stan’s thighs. He pushed between them, agonizingly slow, checking Stan’s face to make sure it was still okay. Which, yeah, it was absolutely okay. Stan moaned his encouragement, squeezing his legs impossibly tighter. Mike’s hand moved in tandem with his thrusts, twisting his wrist over the leaking head of Stan’s cock. Stan’s back arched up off the bed, his breathy moans growing loud and urgent when he felt the suggestive slamming of Mike’s hips against his ass that sent his imagination spiraling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” His fingernails dug sharply into Mike’s shoulders while the tension in his stomach grew tighter and tighter still until it snapped, sending his hips jerking up as he spilled over Mike’s hand and his own chest with a sharp cry. His chest heaved as he breathed through the end of it, shocks still running up his spine while Mike released him to grab his ass instead, shifting him up and pistoning his hips faster, chasing the edge.  
  
“Shit, baby,” Mike breathed, his fingernails digging into Stan’s soft skin as his release shuddered through his body. Stan wasn’t ready to admit out loud that he sort of liked how it felt painted across his chest. His lips feel open, awe-struck as he gazed up at Mike who had fallen back onto his knees, his head hanging low, one of his hands back on Stan’s knee. He leaned forward to place a kiss beside his thumb and squeezed once before leaning over to grab the box of tissues off of Stan’s desk. He wiped Stan’s stomach gently and tossed the tissues neatly into the shared trashcan by the door.  
  
Stan shifted so Mike could collapse beside him, pulling Stan’s leg over his hip and grinning into a series of playful pecking kisses. His energy was infectious and Stan found himself smiling so hard it almost hurt, his arms sneaking around Mike’s back. Mike’s hands snuck under the hoodie now pulled back around Stan’s waist, he drummed his fingers against Stan’s shoulder blades.  
  
“‘Y’Look pretty good in this sunshine, think you should wear it all the time,” he mumbled against Stan’s lips.  
  
“Not sure if you could handle that, Hanlon,” Stan tested, teasing, surprised by his own boldness. Mike laughed and rolled onto his back, pulling Stan onto his chest. Stan rested his cheek against his bare shoulder, tracing his fingers down the curve of his waist.  
  
“I think I’ve got my own ideas about this weekend, now, unless you were really serious about your plans.”  
  
Mike snorted.  
  
“Stay right where you are and I’ll never complain about missing a single thing ever again.” He smiled into Stan’s hair, and reached down to pull the blanket over them. Snuggling further into Mike’s chest, Stan started slipping into sleep, his whole body filled with a pleasant, happy buzz.

He almost didn’t hear the key slide into the doorknob of the dorm room. He almost didn’t hear the door click open. He definitely heard Richie’s loud whooping, as he and Eddie fell through the door. He tensed, ready to chuck something towards them, until he felt himself shaking as Mike laughed, a warm sound.  
  
“Damn, Stanny, three weeks is pretty fast. Wouldn't have thought you had it in ‘ya.”  
  
“Bite me.”  
  
“Glady.”  
  
“Can I do the honors?” Mike asked into Stan’s ear. Before Stan could ask what that meant, Mike was hurling a pillow across the room, smacking Richie square in the face. Stan lifted to his elbows and looked Mike dead in the eye, schooling his expression into something serious.  
  
“I think that was the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me.” He dove in for a long kiss, flashing his middle finger at Richie’s indignant whines.


End file.
